


Common Courtesy

by analyticamethyst



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Jealous Gyro!!!!, M/M, darkwing duck mini paradox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analyticamethyst/pseuds/analyticamethyst
Summary: After a fight draining in more ways than one, Fenton stumbles deliriously to the lab and passes out. It's four am in the morning, and Gyro has to make sure he's okay.





	Common Courtesy

It was a wonder that Fenton actually made it back to the lab in his condition.

By the time he reached the fight, he was seriously starting to regret sprinting off on patrol on an empty stomach. But the Beagle Boys were on their yearly retreat off at Lemuria Island, beating each other up and being idiots, so Duckberg crime had been pretty quiet these last few weeks. Fenton thought he could handle it.

Obviously, he had been wrong.

He had no idea why a St. Canard supervillain had decided to come to Duckberg, or why he had chosen today, but Fenton had not been prepared. And of course he had to have electricity powers, the one thing that completely destabilized and overpowered Gizmoduck’s suit.

Fantastic.

He was lucky to get out of there with a partially functioning Gizmosuit, but the dead weight couldn’t be any good for his back and shoulders. Also, the electricity had hit his arm directly, and it was throbbing pretty hard.

It hurt even more to know he couldn’t go home. But his M’ma still didn’t know he was Gizmoduck, and he could get fired for jeopardizing his secret identity. Plus, she worked with the police force, and Fenton was still struggling to establish a positive relationship with them as Gizmoduck. Oh, if only he could tell them he was Gloria Cabrera’s son. Everything would be so much easier.

He dragged himself to the Money Bin. There was a forty-seven percent chance that Gyro would have gone home for the night, leaving the lab empty. He could crash there for a few hours before he was coherent enough to heal himself and repair his suit, using the first aid kit and materials at the lab. He would stash the Gizmosuit at the lab and slip out to grab some breakfast, so Gyro wouldn’t think he arrived beforehand and throw a fit.

Of course, he’d have to come up with a good excuse as to why he didn’t sleep at home so his M’ma didn’t get suspicious, and there was a sixty-three percent chance that Gyro was still in the lab, running on coffee and crunching on his newest invention.

As luck would have it, the elevator doors to the lab opened with a ding, but it was overshadowed by the annoyed screaming coming from Gyro’s desk. His coworker hated being disturbed, and at night he had even less patience than usual.

Fenton winced. “Hey Gyro… it’s just me.”

Gyro raised an eyebrow. “Oh.” He paused, squinting at Fenton, who was grateful it was too dark for Gyro to properly see how damaged the Gizmosuit was. “What are you doing here?”

Fenton shrugged and grinned deliriously. Was that darkness creeping in the edge of his vision or was it just the dim lighting? Curse Gyro for keeping the power off so Scrooge doesn’t discover he’s pulling all-nighters in the lab once a week. “Dunno. Just wandered here.”

Gyro sharply pushed himself out of his chair, and Fenton can practically hear the muffled alarm bells going off in his head. “What happened?”

Fenton flinched. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”

He numbly realized he was swaying slightly, the room spinning in just above darkness, just before his knees turned to jelly and gave out. He plunged forward, crumpling like an aluminum can with a fuzzy view of the floor. He titled his head up just in time to hear the terrifying crunch of metal on concrete as the Gizmosuit hit the floor, and stared up at Gyro’s horrified face. The last thought running through his head was Oh, Dios mio, Gyro’s going to be so mad before the world went black.

\--

The first thing Fenton noticed when he blinked awake was the lack of weight he had become accustomed to over the last few months. While at first wearing the Gizmosuit had felt undeniably heavy, lately he had been wearing it so often that when he wasn’t wearing it he felt as light as a feather. Usually it was a nice feeling, but the lack of a constant weight only added to a growing wariness without a target.

The second thing he noticed was the fluorescent lights of the lab, which were both familiar and unfamiliar. They were blindingly bright, and it took a few moments before Fenton could see properly.

The third thing he noticed was Gyro’s face, so close he could reach out and touch his pointy beak without much effort. He looked concerned, or as concerned as Gyro could get without the problem being about a machine. 

Memories slowly flooded back to Fenton as he recalled the fight, his retreat to the lab, and blacking out. His gaze flickered to Gyro, who was busying himself with what looked like a first-aid kit. Behind him, a suit-shaped heap of battered and burned metal lay forgotten. Fenton had to lift his arm and see his brown feathers for himself to realize that Gyro had actually left the suit behind.

Gyro had left the suit behind.

Well, that was interesting. A couple months ago, Fenton had calculated a 12% chance of that ever happening, and most of it was based on life or death situations.

It was bizarre, to say the least.

Maybe something had changed the circumstances. Maybe he had accidentally hit Gyro with his unfortunately heavy suit when he fainted and it had caused brain damage. It would have to be minor, seeing as Gyro was up and about with that first-aid kit. On the other hand, first-aid kits were extremely easy to figure out and he was taking his time. 

Fenton rolled over and pressed his hands to his forehead, groaning slightly. He would have to run the probabilities later, but right now pain throbbed all throughout his body. The foul smell of fried circuits was still circulating. He could pinpoint the exact moment when that stench had been birthed. When the blinding bolt of electricity came in searing contact with his suit. When everything went wrong.

“Cabrera! You’re awake!” Gyro remarked, surprise but no bite in his tone. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible, honestly,” Fenton chuckled softly with no real humor. “Before you ask, I can repair the suit. It should be fine.”

Gyro blinked. “Oh- um, yes, please do.”

Fenton squeezed his eyes shut against the glaring lights. “You’re acting bizarre today.”

Gyro huffed and crossed his arms stiffly across his chest. “Says the person who comes wandering into the lab at four am badly injured and near exhaustion. You were delirious. You kept mumbling nonsense about electricity and your scary mom.”

Fenton pressed his lips together as the memories slowly seeped back into his head. “I don’t remember any of that,” he mumbled. “But I did fight a villain with electricity powers.”

Gyro snorted. “One of those St. Canard delinquents? Why they keep coming here is beyond me.” He was frustrated, his tone sharp with annoyance, but Fenton wasn’t quite sure who or what it was directed at.

Fenton shrugged, not sure what to say, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He let out a hiss of pain as he accidentally put weight on the arm the bolt of electricity had fried.

Gyro stiffened, looking more alert than he usually was this early in the morning, coffee or no coffee. “You’re hurt.”

Fenton chuckled humorlessly. “Well, I didn’t pass out simply because of exhaustion. I was just in an intense fight, you know.”

Gyro huffed, frustrated. He crouched down and lifted Fenton’s injured hand into his with surprising gentleness. “Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it’s not broken.”

Fenton obliged, biting back the pain with a scowl. Gyro glanced up, frowning thoughtfully.

“I’m going to call Mr. McDuck,” he announced after a moment of careful deliberation, not really speaking to anyone in particular. His grip on Fenton’s hand loosened.

Fenton raised his eyebrows. Maybe Gyro had hit his head on something. “Then he will know you’re staying at the lab after hours.”

Gyro scowled, glaring at the phone hanging on the wall. “Yeah, well, first aid isn’t one of my many fortes. People are going to blame me if my invention harms them, regardless of if I try to help. I don’t need to give the effort.”

Fenton smirked. “Knowledge is power.” He decided not to mention how Gyro was helping him now.

His coworker glared at him for a minute before reaching into a fridge near the back of the lab with the stale snacks Gyro never touched and shoving an ice pack in Fenton’s lap. He strode over to the phone. “Just try not to get any more broken before Mr. McDuck shows up.”

While Gyro made the call, Fenton pursed his lips and glanced down at his arm. His feathers were shorter than he preferred, the tips singed licorice black. This one was going to be difficult to explain to M’Ma.

Now that Gyro was preoccupied and not around to distract him, the dam broke and the pain and exhaustion began to flood back in. Everything hurt, but his arm stung most of all. Maybe Gyro was smart for calling Mr. McDuck, a man who had seen pretty much any injury possible and then some on his adventures.

He flopped back onto his back with a sigh. The bench was cushioned, but that didn’t make it soft. That being said, it might have been the softest thing in the lab.

Fenton could tell it wasn’t used very often, even before he was hired.

Boredly, he raised his injured arm above his head and flexed his fingers ever so slightly. Immediately, a jolt of pain thrashed through his arm and he flinched.

“I thought I told you not to get any more broken,” Gyro snapped, hands on his hips. Fenton hadn’t noticed him approach.

“Sorry,” the duck replied quickly, careful to use his uninjured arm to push himself upwards this time. All the same, the soreness stung. “I’m fine.”

Gyro snorted disbelievingly. “Save it for your mom. Mr. McDuck will be here in about five minutes, provided he can get Launchpad out of bed and into something decent.”

Even though he wasn’t ready for either him or Gyro to get lectured by Scrooge, it was comforting to know that Launchpad would be coming. He could always be counted on for cheering up. Fenton smiled.

Gyro noticed and he scowled. “Provided they don’t get into a crash with that reckless manbaby at the wheel,” he muttered, glowering. 

Fenton sighed. “Launchpad may be reckless, but at least he’s reliable. They almost always crash, but no one gets hurt. It’s fascinating, honestly. How does he do it?”

Gyro smirked. “You can study him if you want. I doubt he would notice. But I don’t know if I could handle being around him for that long.” He sat down on the bench beside Fenton with a light sigh.

“Each one to his own,” Fenton replied lightly, hiding his disbelief.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the lap - the hum of the computers, the muffled splashes of the water against the walls, the drip of Gyro’s beloved coffee machine. 

“Hey,” Fenton interjected softly, breaking the almost comfortable silence. Gyro turned to look at him, and it suddenly occurred to Fenton that he couldn’t remember the last time he had Gyro’s full attention. He was always rushing around with a project and coffee, halfhearted reprimands trailing in his wake.

But he did now.

Swallowing his sudden bout of nerves, Fenton continued, albeit a little stiffly. “Thanks for helping me out and making sure I’m okay. I know how upset Mr. McDuck can get about you working after hours.”

Gyro turned away, his face unreadable. He waved Fenton’s concerns away. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I would probably be in more trouble if I ignored you.”

Fenton laughed softly. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

Gyro replied with only a smile. It was soft and tentative, but he scowled bitterly so often it was a nice change. He leaned back on his elbows beside Fenton, watching the door and relaxing in the silence that was just a little more comfortable.

Then the door banged open, louder than anything Fenton had heard in the past hour. He flinched so hard he nearly fell off the bench. Beside him, Gyro sprang to his feet, eyes wide.

Scrooge McDuck stormed into the lab, Launchpad and an older lady on his heels. He clutched a role of bandages, while the woman carried a first aid kit.

Launchpad sprinted beside Scrooge, worry lighting up his gaze. “Fenton! Buddy, are you okay?”

Fenton smiled despite the pain. “Better. Thanks for coming, bud.”

Launchpad sat down beside Fenton and took one of his hands in his. Gyro crossed his arms and backed away. “Anytime.”

“Fenton, this is my housekeeper and bodyguard, Bentina Beakley. She is highly proficient with first aid.” Scrooge announced, drawing Fenton’s attention back to him. Fenton smiled at the hen, who simply nodded back and produced gauze from the first aid kit. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Mrs. Beakley responded, only half paying attention. Her precision and multitasking reminded Fenton of Gyro, except she was much more professional and organized. “Would you mind recounting the details of your fight and injury?”

As Fenton and Bentina talked, and she treated him, Scrooge pulled Gyro aside and berated him for being at the lab after hours. The inventor rolled his eyes transferred his annoyed glare back and forth between Scrooge and Launchpad, who was still holding Fenton’s hand.

After the third or fourth time, Scrooge followed Gyro’s gaze and the lightbulb went off. He paused his lecture and laid a hand on Gyro’s shoulder, causing his employee to stare at him with wide, revealing eyes. “He’s not going tae underestimate what ya did for him today,” the billionaire remarked softly. “But he’s not a mind reader either.”

Gyro sighed and slumped against Scrooge’s side, watching Launchpad make dumb jokes and Darkwing Duck references that caused Fenton’s beak to twitch upwards. “I know.”

Scrooge tucked an arm around Gyro’s shoulder. “Ye did somethin’ good today, all right? But Ae better not catch ye hangin’ around the lab in the wee hours of the mornin’ again!”

Gyro rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mr. McDuck.” He didn’t tear his eyes away.

The billionaire patted his shoulder. “Give it time.” He wandered off to check on Fenton, laying his hand gently on his bodyguard’s shoulder. To Gyro, his voice became staticy and muffled, part of something he could only observe.

Gyro glanced at the hand that had held Fenton’s and wiggled his fingers. “What else can I do?” 

No one answered.

**Author's Note:**

> posted today as promised! I actually managed to stick a deadline, how crazy is that? XD
> 
> hahahaha this is hilarious because this is a request but this story hits a lot of points for me. Dad Scrooge? Darkwing Duck references? Everybody’s Friend Launchpad? Social anxiety Gyro? Fenro? Awkward Fenro that’s not quite there yet bc they need character development? Sassy Fenton? caring Gyro? these are all things I adore in fanfic lol
> 
> I didn’t know I love jealous Gyro, but it was insanely fun to write. so there might be more in the future? hopefully? Gyro is fun to write regardless. he’s such a character.
> 
> this was a request on tumblr with the prompt "Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it's not broken."
> 
> dunno what else there is to say. I had fun writing this! thanks for the ask!
> 
> ~
> 
> also, bonus! yesterday, as I was trying to finish this up, google docs wouldn't let me edit offline. So I took the prompt and wrote a little ficlet with a different story.
> 
> “Why are you doing this?” Gyro snapped, a lazy drawl to anyone who didn’t know the high-strung, brusque scientist. But Fenton had known the chicken long enough to hear the strain and stiffness in his voice.
> 
> He wrapped the bandages tighter around his coworker’s bloodstained hand. “My M’ma raised me to be kind and helpful to everyone. Does courtesy need an excuse?”
> 
> Gyro hummed a little too casually, contemplating his rescuer’s answer. “But mit’s me,” he replied after a few moments. “If Beaks hadn’t dropped his phone that day, I could have been fighting you instead of a malfunctioning robot.”
> 
> Fenton pursed his lips, pausing, and Gyro glanced up at him with thinly veiled anxiety. “Well,” he replied, taking a moment to reply and keep his tone light and airy. “Who says I’m not doing this to spite that bastard?” Smirking, he tied off the bandage. “Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it’s not broken.”
> 
> Gyro chuckled softly, with none of his usual bite. He wiggles his fingers triumphantly, relaxing a little. “Fair enough.”


End file.
